


The Question

by TheStrangeSeaWolf



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Dinner, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Old Time Rock'n'Roll Songfic, Otters, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:27:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24626983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStrangeSeaWolf/pseuds/TheStrangeSeaWolf
Summary: So, @GreyWhovian requested “12 and clara having a romantic dinner” on twitter. It was one of the prompts that are… well, bigger on the inside. Because Twelve just doesn’t do romantic dinners. Because he is a superior Time Lord and is above that kind of human nonsense. But he wants to ask Clara a question. A really important question. And, well, the TARDIS thinks there is only one appropriate setting to ask it: a romantic dinner.A short prompt that developed into a four-chapter story. Sorry, not sorry.
Relationships: Twelfth Doctor & Clara Oswin Oswald, Twelfth Doctor/Clara Oswin Oswald
Comments: 20
Kudos: 52





	1. Chapter 1

„Eating something? Is that your idea of how it could work?”

_Trust me, my Thief, that’s how it usually works for humans._

“But eating… it is profane, a way to fuel your system with energy. Shouldn’t it be somehow… more special?”

_Look… you want to ask her to give up her job and travel with you all the time, right?_

“Correct.”

_Sorry to break it to you, but that is nearly like asking her to marry her._

“Shut up!”

_Fine, then do what you want. But I tell you, showing her the screaming swamps of Slabber 8 won’t do the trick._

“But they are beautiful!”

_Yes. And they stink. She won’t be able to listen to you because of the screams and she will probably want to run away because of the stench._

“I like the smell.”

_Yes. But you are a bit weird. She is a human. She loves other smells. By the way, that after-shave of yours…_

“It’s ‘Significant Otter’, the otters highly recommended it.”

_Probably the right choice if you want to ask an otter woman out, but not for a human. You smell like a wet dog with it._

“I like the smell of wet dogs.”

The TARDIS decided not to say anything and just hum her desperation.

“Okay, fine, I trust you. I take her for dinner to ask her. What do you think about Andromeda’s Caverns?”

_A smuggler’s nightclub? Seriously, Doctor?_

“They serve excellent pizza.”

_It’s loud, it’s smoky and nearly everyone on staff and every guest has seen a prison from the inside._

“Me, too. And Clara, too. Prisons are very peaceful places, you know? No running, a dry place, food…”

_Still not a romantic place to ask a girl out._

“I’m not asking a girl out. I want to ask Clara something.”

_Yes, you want to ask her if she is willing to spend the rest of her life with someone who is not willing to put enough thought into a dinner location she would enjoy._

“Clara likes pizza, we could just order in, watch a nice movie and then I’ll ask her.”

The TARDIS hummed.

_I just booked you a table at the Gh’an Burkhar Stables._

“Whoa, that’s a bit posh, isn’t it?”

_Listen, do you want her to say ‘yes’ or not?_

The Doctor stared to his feet and nodded.

_Fine. Then you should show Clara that you value her enough to take her to a decent restaurant. You are paying with a psychic credit card, anyway, so it’s not like it costs you more than a cheap restaurant, anyway._

“You are probably right. Let’s go!”

_Not in these clothes!_

“What? Why? What’s wrong with these clothes?”

_You can’t go to a noble restaurant with a hoodie._

“Hoodies are cool!”

_Yes. So are bowties. But this is a ritzy restaurant and you certainly want to look your best for Clara. She will see you in your embarrassing nightgown soon enough if she agrees!_

“What’s wrong with my nightgown, now?”

_Unicorns, wasps, and rainbows?_

“What’s wrong with unicorns, wasps, and rainbows? And it’s flannel and very cozy. Besides, you made it for me, how come you don’t like it?

_I like it! I was just trying to make the point that you want to dress your best if you want to ask the woman you love out._

“I don’t love Clara!”

_Yes, and you are not her boyfriend and my exterior isn’t blue. Now, chop-chop, dress yourself up so she sees you are quite a tasty Time Lord!_

“I do sense a double meaning here!”

The Doctor sighed and entered his wardrobe. It was a spacious room, of course, much bigger on the inside. He started to riffle through his clothes. Jumpers, frilled shirts, striped trousers, the odd, long scarf…

“I have got nothing to wear!”

_How about that suit you wore on the Orient Express?_

“No. I’m rather sure there will be soup for starters and I don’t want to ruin the cravat.”

_Agreed. I’d start with a white shirt and plain trousers. You can’t go wrong with that. That’s a classic. In the meanwhile, let me pick a coat for you._

An additional coat hanger appeared in the section with coats.

“You made a new coat for me?”

_Critical situations call for drastic measures._

“I like the color. I always liked purple. And I really should wear velvet more often, I like the touch.”

_Do you notice something about the buttons?_

“One contrasting button on the sleeve? Neat! You are really a gifted tailor with a good fashion sense, you know that, Sexy?”

_Awww, stop it, you! You haven’t called me that in ages!_

“Sorry, old girl. Sometimes I’m taking you for granted and I…. Well, what do you think?”

The Doctor turned to the mirror and pulled his cuffs straight.

_Very dashing, Doctor._

“Do you think she will say ‘yes’?”

_She’s crazy enough to always come back to you, no matter how much you goof up, so if you show her the best version of yourself tonight, I think there is a slight chance she will agree, my Thief._

The Doctor started for the console room to set course for Clara’s flat, while the TARDIS placed a bottle with new after-shave on the console and then secretly prepared a new room in the TARDIS…


	2. Chapter 2

The TARDIS materialized in Clara’s flat. The Doctor stepped out.

“Clara?”

Seemed she wasn’t back from Coal Hill. Usually he was a bit late, because he hated to wait. Today, however, he was a bit nervous, and therefore, early.

He started to pace the flat.

He was still not convinced the TARDIS was right with that dinner idea.

Maybe he should just ask Clara right away.

He didn’t understand how food intake should change the outcome of her answer.

He heard the key click in the lock and Clara entered. As always, she was much more beautiful than the image he carried in his mind.

“Doctor? What are you doing here? It’s not Wednesday!”

She took off her shoes.

“Yes, I know. But I thought you are, well, maybe hungry and, you know, we could go out eating something.”

“You are asking me out?”

She stared at him, surprised.

“Yes, sure, why not? I heard that is a thing you humans do. Go someplace where someone cooks for you. Which is very efficient when you think it through. No time wasted for cooking dinner, no washing up, more time for adventuring on the net side.”

“Oh, yes… It’s just… I didn’t expect it, that’s all.” She eyed him closer. “Did you even dress for the occasion?”

He beamed. She noticed it!

“Yes. New coat. What do you think?”

He slowly turned so she could admire it from all angles.

“Looks gorgeous, Doctor!”

He beamed even more because she approved.

“The TARDIS made it. Velvet. Here, feel it!”

He was secretly proud of the sneaky ideas he had lately to lure her into touching him. In a way it seemed logical, so he didn’t have to pretend he didn’t like it.

She took his arm and felt the sleeve.

“Even a single contrast button to the fitting ones on the sleeve? That’s what I call dressed up to the nines, Doctor!”

Now he was absolutely sure the corners of his mouth had reached his earlobes. She liked it as much as he liked it!

“Fine, so… is it a… good restaurant?”

“Gh’an Burkhar Stables? Ah, well, yes. Good food. Small portions, though. But the TARDIS was sure you will like it.”

Clara arched an eyebrow at him.

It was a pity the TARDIS and Clara didn’t get along well.

But Clara said nothing and just disappeared in her bedroom to reappear sometime later in a dress that took his breath away. It was a plain black satin dress that underlined the beauty of her body. He always appreciated when she wore something that showed her shoulders. She had perfectly round shoulders and he could write a poem about her collar bones. Ah, well, maybe not a poem, but a song. Yes, most definitely a song.

“How do I look?” She asked.

“As always, small, roundish, no visual damage…”

He stopped himself, reminding himself that she probably didn’t want a status update on how she looked, but a few compliments on how she looked in that dress. Humans. Complicated.

“Absolutely stunning. I’m convinced you will be the most beautiful woman in the whole restaurant.”

“So, I take it the other guests are Slitheen?”

What did she mean? Humans. Didn’t make much sense. But she smiled and her eyes sparkled, so it probably had been the right thing to say.

He offered her his arm. The TARDIS had showed him movies where human males did this if they asked someone out. It was again a sneaky way to have her near him without having to fake protesting against her touching him. She smiled as she took it and they both stepped together into the TARDIS.

Gh’an Burkhar Stables, situated in Bhoghan, the capital of Ghat’Baharan, was, despite its name, a luxurious place. It bore its name from the former stables of the royal family, but all that reminded the guests of that time were some oil paintings of the former queen’s favorite stallions.

“Wow, that’s really a posh place, Doctor!”

Clara whispered beside him. No one dared to speak loud in here. All that was heard was the sound of cutlery on plates, low conversations from the guests and a piano playing a soft, seemingly endless melody.

“Noblest one in this part of the galaxy. Gets a comet in the Staarflex Guide every year,” he whispered back.

The waiter guided them to their table. The menu appeared as a hologram before their eyes. They both chose the menu of the day. The waiter suggested a 12-year-old Chateau Fg79a from Vertra 7 with it. Clara shot the Doctor a questioning look to which he shrugged. He neither cared nor was an expert for blue wine and so, he just trusted the waiter.

When the appetizer came along with the wine, he raised his glass, looked into Clara’s eyes – the TARDIS had informed him that it was absolutely crucial to look a human in the eyes during this – and said the toast he had worked out with the TARDIS:

“Here’s to you, Clara Oswald. The highlight of my Wednesdays!”

“Doctor, I know that weekdays mean nothing to you, and it isn’t even Wednesday.”

She giggled.

“Oh, my bad, it just feels like it is Wednesday because you are here with me. I wish all days were Wednesdays!”

He said, she giggled, and they clinked their glasses. A few guests looked judgingly at them. Obviously, you didn’t clink glasses in this restaurant.

The dinner was excellent. The wine was excellent. Clara looked excellent. Yet, he felt uncomfortable. Not only that he hadn’t managed to direct the conversation towards his Wednesday problem. It had sounded far easier to come to the question from the toast when he talked it through with the TARDIS. But that wasn’t it. He would manage to ask her somehow.

It was something different.

This.

This whole thing.

It felt wrong.

He had secretly scanned the location a dozen times now, but there was no hostile activity. Well, not classical hostile, anyway. Not Dalek or Cybermen hostile. There were hostile stares towards them because they somehow didn’t act conventional enough. Apparently not how it was expected. The other guests were rather noble people. High ranking politicians. Officers up to generals. Celebrities. Somehow, two adventurers and time travelers stuck out as the odd ones.

Maybe it was that.

He didn’t feel comfortable.

And, looking at Clara, she was uncomfortable, too.

The whole atmosphere was…

Tense…

Not right…

Off…

Boring!

That was it.

This place was boring!

He hated boring!

He looked at Clara who desperately tried to suppress a yawn.

She was bored, too!

She shouldn’t be bored.

Anything but bored!

Bored was terrible!

Bored was next to dead.

He had to do something about it.

He scanned the room once again and noticed something that had escaped him before.

He slipped his sunglasses on.

Oh, yes!!


	3. Chapter 3

“Hey!”

The Doctor grinned at the otter who played an endless, boring tune on the piano and looked just as bored as he felt. The otter looked up and crinkled his nose with the impressive moustache.

“Sir?”

“Hey, Leif William Willhelmson! Billy Blue Otter! Don’t you recognize me? It’s me, the Doctor!”

“Doctor?”

The otter frowned and looked closer. For a short moment he let go of the keys and rubbed his webbed feet over his nose, fast, a sign that he was confused and tried to concentrate.

“Doctor? You changed!”

The Doctor grinned, nodded, took off his sunglasses and gesticulated from his head to his feet.

“Oh, yes, I did. What do you think?”

“Bit crinkly, huh? But fancy dress!”

The Doctor beamed. Billy liked his new coat. They fist bumped or whatever it was called when one had a fist and the other had a paw.

“Thanks! Listen… can I ask you a favor? This place is a bit… boring… and I think a bit of rock’n’roll never hurt anyone. Do you happen to have an electric guitar somewhere?”

“Trying to impress the lady, huh?” The Otter nodded in Clara’s direction. “She’s quite a tasty chick!”

The Doctor felt an inexplicable anger rising up. He scowled at Billy.

“Oi! Shut up! If I catch you laying your paws on her you are otter carpaccio faster than you can say she sells seashells by the seashore!”

“Woah, there’s quite an amount of jealous Glaswegian streetfighter in the mix this time, huh?”

“What do you mean? I just warned you because you have quite a reputation as lady-killer.”

Billy wiggled his eyebrows, which was meant to look suggestive, but, him being an otter, just looked… cute. The Doctor understood why women were immediately attracted to Billy.

“You really want to play in here, Doctor? I mean… look at those people… they are not the type that appreciate a good gig… Which poses the question: what are you doing here? Is there an invasion? Because, seriously, even if you changed into someone who looks more serious and respectable than your previous incarnation, you are still the Doctor. You enjoy this kind of posh and snotty company just as little as I do.”

Billy was, of course, right. The Doctor loved his TARDIS, but sometimes she just wasn’t right. This place wasn’t him. And he hoped it wasn’t Clara, because if it was, asking her to join him all the time would be a huge mistake. He knew there was a way to find out. His way.

“Not an invasion. But an important question I have to ask Clara. And I need your support for it. And a guitar.”

“Ah, you know me, I’m a romantic at heart. Anything and everything for the ladies – or the gents, whichever you prefer! Look behind the curtain, you should find all you need there.”

Right, behind the curtain was a full band equipment. Obviously, there were decent concerts every once in a while. He chose a Defender Galaxycaster Mark II.

“What’ll it be, Doc?” Billy asked.

“You know ‘Old Time Rock’n’Roll’ by that 20th century Earth bloke?”

“Bob Seger?”

Billy asked and sneaked a few pieces of the melody into the endless lift music he was playing. The Doctor grinned and nodded.

Billy stopped and some of the guests looked up, surprised because while nobody cared for the music, it was a disruption not to have it playing in the background. Clara had looked to them the whole time while they were chatting, anyway. Billy wiggled his eyebrows at her and started to play the signature first chords on the piano, then adding the automatic drum function.

The Doctor started singing and playing the guitar.

_Just take those old records off the shelf_

_I'll sit and listen to 'em by myself_

_Today's music ain't got the same soul_

_I like that old time rock 'n' roll_

The eyes of every single guest and staffer were now on the stage where an otter on the piano and a grey-haired guy in a velvet coat played loudly something that seemed totally inappropriate for this location.

_Don't try to take me to a disco_

_You'll never even get me out on the floor_

_In ten minutes I'll be late for the door_

_I like that old time rock'n' roll_

While he sang, he eyed Clara closely. When he had started singing, she had buried her face in her hands. Now she slowly took them down and a small smile crinkled her lips.

_Still like that old time rock'n' roll_

_That kind of music just soothes the soul_

_I reminisce about the days of old_

_With that old time rock 'n' roll_

Now, a mischievous expression crawled to her eyes, she wiggled her eyebrows at him and nodded to the beat. Her feet had betrayed her from the start, anyway, the left one had started rocking after the first few chords. She loved that old time rock’n’roll, too.

Had he thought he could write a song about her collar bones earlier on? Well, he sure could do some adaptions to these lyrics to ask her, right? Music was his native language. Words came easiest if they were in a song.

_Just leave that job at old Coal Hill_

_No need to pay for the energy bill_

_Your headmaster got no soul_

_Just come with me and we rock‘n’roll_

Clara stopped the nodding and looked, surprised and incredulous. He just hoped she would get what he wanted to ask her.

_Don’t confine me to just Wednesdays_

_The TARDIS is there for all of your days_

_I got a room and a lot of soul_

_Just come with me and we rock ‘n’roll._

He now walked towards her, playing.

_You like your students and that’s okay_

_But listen what I got to say:_

_Those pudding brains will ruin your soul_

_Just come with me and we rock ‘n’roll_

She stood up and started dancing together with him to the tune. The rest of the guests just stared at them. Most in horror and shock. A few, however, couldn’t resist dancing, too. So, not all hope was lost on them.

Not that he cared.

He just cared for the small schoolteacher dancing beside him.

He turned towards her.

_Call me stick-insect, call me what you will_

_Say I'm a daft man, say I'm over the hill_

_I don’t care as long as you are at my console_

_Inside my TARDIS and we rock’n’roll_

She grinned at him broadly and nodded her head to the beat. He hoped she meant she agreed. Well, he could ask her later. Now, his favorite part of the song came. As a guitarist, he was of course very fond of playing a solo.

He jumped onto the long table where a high-profile tycoon celebrated his birthday. He started jump-walking forward like that other 20th century bloke… Glaswegian who lived in Australia… couldn’t remember his name… quite a nice guy, had a thing for school uniforms and his band name had something to do with voltage… ah, well, he had lived too long to remember every little detail…

Plates and cutlery fell left and right and some of the guests screamed in appreciation of his moves and his guitar skills. Or was it in horror? He didn’t care.

He ended the song on his knees, sliding towards the end of the table on the last notes, taking the tablecloth and a significant amount of glasses and bottles with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Old Time Rock'n'Roll is a classic by Bob Seger that had made its appearence in more than one movie and TV episode. The one that stuck with me most, however, probably showing my age, is [the version in ALF](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SLrkgC8LoZg).
> 
> Most of you might recall the signature guitar solo walk by Angus Young from AC/DC the Doctor does on the table. For those who can't, [here you are](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sfN2Hw5Cd3U). If you can't picture the Doctor doing that in his purple velvet coat, well... I'm truly sorry.


	4. Chapter 4

Security guards entered the place and asked the Doctor, Clara and Billy to leave the Gh’an Burkhar Stables.

Well, threw them down the twenty-six marble stairs, more like it.

The Doctor wondered how they met the accessibility standards of Ghat’Baharan as he instinctively jumped to his feet.

Clara.

Was she alright?

She had landed just a few steps beside him.

“Clara? Are you alright?”

She had protected her head with her arms. Now, she slowly took them down and grinned broadly at him.

“We really should write that guide ‘101 Places to be thrown out of’, Doctor.”

He was relieved.

“Nothing broken, nothing hurt?”

He carefully examined all her limbs, bending first the right, then the left foot a few times. Humans were so breakable. Better make sure.

“Everything’s alright, Doctor. Nothing more than a few bruises. After years of practice being thrown out of public places for misconduct or because you confused the court protocol of two species, rolling downstairs is nearly like walking for me.”

He grinned but was still a bit worried. Her body was extremely delicate, he would better make sure that this fragile neck was okay. He tenderly took her face in his hands, moving her head a bit.

“Doesn’t hurt?”

“Nope. I’m alright, Doctor. You should probably make sure the same is true for your friend.”

Right. He had nearly forgotten about Billy.

He looked sideways to see the otter eying the scene with a knowing smile. The Doctor helped Clara to stand up.

“Ah, I don’t need to worry about him. Being thrown out of bars is something like his daily exercise. Clara, meet Leif William Wilhelmson, also known as Billy Blue Otter, famous keyboarder of the infamous punk-soul-band ‘The Otter Half’.”

“Ma’am!”

Billy stretched out his right webbed foot. The webs were very small, his folks called them crippled, which made him a miserable swimmer and fisherman, but an excellent piano player.

“Mister Wilhelmson.”

“Billy, just Billy, for my friends and especially for the beautiful friends of my friends.”

Clara took the paw and shook it.

“Clara Oswald. Clara for you, Billy. I’m impressed, you were able to memorize that whole ancient melody by heart and play it without mistakes. And you played fabulous.”

“Child’s play. That one was a piano exercise when I was a pup.”

Billy shrugged the compliment off. Then he smiled slyly.

“So, you and the Doctor are, you know,” he clasped his webbed feet together, which gave a squashing noise.

“Nononononnono!” The Doctor said quickly. “We are… she’s my… ah, well, she’s…”

“I’m his carer. I care for him, so he doesn’t have to.” Clara added.

“Ah… yeah…” Billy said and arched his eyebrows in a way that made it obvious that he didn’t believe a word they were saying.

“Sorry, you lost your job,” Clara quickly changed topic.

“Oh, never mind. Didn’t like that place, anyway. Posh, loads of twats, most stingy with tips,” Billy shrugged.

“By the way, what became of ‘The Otter Half’? You were fabulous!” The Doctor was now genuinely interested.

“Ah, well, wasn’t quite the same since Marcus Aurelius and you left. Had a few nice gigs touring the countryside but split up, eventually.”

“Shame! You never recorded that album, then?”

“’Ottermatic Otteraction?’ Nope, couldn’t seal the deal. I still believe the boss of that label had prejudices against otters.”

“Really?”

Clara patted Billy’s head compassionately to which the Doctor arched an eyebrow.

“Yeah, well, he was a cold fish.”

“Oh?”

“I mean, literally. He was a trout. But I swear I never suggested to eat him! That’s fake news!”

“I see…”

The Doctor decided he didn’t need to hear Billy’s side of the story. He changed topic.

“So, what are you going to do now, Billy?”

Billy shrugged.

“We will see. You know the old saying: ‘When one bar closes, another one opens.’ What are you going to do? Night still young, huh?”

Billy had said it to both of them, but his eyes were on Clara and his charming smile was exclusively for her.

The Doctor was still hungry. The courses had been excellent, but the portions had been small, and they had been thrown out before the dessert. Besides, he still needed an answer from Clara. And he didn’t like the way she smiled at Billy. That bloke sure had a lot of charm. He needed to do something, otherwise she would perhaps run off with him.

“I think I have to guide the lady home, Billy,” he said, stepping closer to Clara, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, just to make sure that Billy didn’t get any ideas. Like, trying to invite her for a drink or something.

Clara looked at him surprised.

The Doctor pretended not to notice it.

“I think I get the picture, Doctor. Have a nice evening, then, the two of you, you and your… carer.”

Billy grinned, did a mock salute towards the Doctor, stepped forward, took Clara’s hand and kissed it.

“If you ever want to go out with an otterly experienced musician who plays more than just the piano and is said to have very skilled paws, give me a call, Clara.”

Billy wiggled his eyebrows.

Clara freed herself from the Doctor, bowed down and kissed Billy’s furry head.

“I promise, I will, Billy. I think you are very otteractive!”

“Stop it with the puns. You know I hate puns!”

The Doctor said, suppressing an onslaught of… well, maybe Billy was right and there was a bit jealous Glaswegian streetfighter mixed into this incarnation.

“Got it, Doctor. I’m otter here!”

Billy grinned, waved at them, and started towards downtown Bhoghan, probably in search of the next piano that needed a player and someone to share a drink with.

Clara looked up to the Doctor and smirked.

“Nice guy. So, what do we do now, Doctor?”

The Doctor put his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet. Suddenly, he didn’t feel as confident as he had felt in the restaurant and before Billy left.

“I’m hungry,” he said, “maybe… I don’t know… but maybe there is a nice pizza parlor or something somewhere so we could finish our dinner?”

“Sounds good,” Clara said as they started strolling down the street. “Say, those lyrics… did you want to ask me something with them or was it just… freestyle?”

The Doctor felt his hearts racing and his throat was suddenly extremely dry. He stopped walking and gulped.

Clara turned towards him, looking up.

“Well, yes… yes, that was a question.”

“You think I should give up my job at Coal Hill?”

“Uhm, well… it is just that…”

Why was he such a coward? Of course, this was what he wanted! He only needed to find the right words.

“Well, see, I know it stresses you out, all this adventuring and teaching, and teaching and adventuring, and…”

“So, you are just concerned about my wellbeing and think it will reduce the stress when I run and battle monsters with you instead of teaching?”

There was a smirk in the corner of her mouth. This… somehow didn’t sound logical. She had a point. Maybe for once just settle for the truth? Or at least half the truth?

“Yes, that and… You know… I just… Adventuring is not the same when you are not with me. It is like that restaurant. It is boring and no fun when you are not with me.”

“So, you want me in the TARDIS because you are bored.”

The smirk broadened.

“Well, yes, no, I mean, yes… but… or, no… it’s…”

He closed his eyes and concentrated. What had he got to lose? There was nothing to lose but a lot to win. He just had to bring that tangled mass of thoughts and feelings in coherent sentences, then over his lips. And then, he could only hope for the best. He took a deep breath and started again.

“It’s just so much more fun when you are with me. And there are so many exciting places to see in this universe! It is just not the same to tell you about them, I want to see and explore them together with you. And I don’t want to leave you behind on Earth, hoping your week goes well, but not knowing it. Worrying if you are alright or if that idiotic headmaster harasses you again. I… just want to be with you all the time! Can you blame me for that, Clara?”

Her eyes inflated and the smirk developed into a broad smile.

“No, I won’t blame you for that. And: yes, Doctor, I will.”

“You will what?”

“I will come and see the universe with you. Everyday. Not just Wednesdays.”

“Really?”

“Really!”

His hearts skipped a beat, then he stepped forward and wrapped her in his arms.

“Is… is that a hug, Doctor?”

He felt two small arms crawling around him and two warm hands found their position on his back.

“No… I’m just stretching out my arms and you happen to be between them.”

“I see. And the hands on my back and on my shoulder?”

“Ergonomics.”

He mumbled as he clutched her shoulder tight, because he had no intention to let her go anytime, soon.

If he was really honest with himself, he didn’t want to let go forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the band mentioned by Vastra in Deep Breath was “The Otter Half”, featuring Marcus Aurelius on bass guitar. Glad I could enlighten you.


End file.
